


Running Kind

by bshiat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Sirius Black Fest, Sirius Black Fest 2019, everybody lives au, except Fleamont Potter R.I.P.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2020-12-27 00:17:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21109559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bshiat/pseuds/bshiat
Summary: After Voldemort's defeat, Remus leaves town and doesn't come back until twelve years later. Sirius thought he was over him, but even the thought of Remus' return stirs his old feelings right back up.





	Running Kind

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Sirius Black fest mods for hosting this and thank you Arya for the wonderful prompt! And of course shaggy, gloom and nacho for the insanely-quick read-over (so sorry I procrastinated for so long on this one and gave you only a few hours!).
> 
> Title from The Running Kind by Johnny Cash because I'm Like That.

After Voldemort was defeated - _by a baby, little Haz, can you imagine?_ \- Remus had reportedly come back to England, but Fleamont’s funeral was the only time Sirius had managed to see him. They’d had solemn but friendly drinks at the Cauldron with James and Lily, conversation flowing deceptively easily. Just old friends catching up after months of not seeing each other, and raising a glass to Jamie’s dad.

After that, Remus had vanished into thin air. At least as far as Sirius was concerned. According to James, Remus still sometimes wrote letters to the Potters. It seemed patently unfair to Sirius, that if Remus was upset over the whole thing, that he should forgive James and not Sirius. He’d almost written to Remus, once, but burnt the letter before he owled it.

That had been twelve years ago. Now, now Remus is a bittersweet memory. A friend-of-a-friend, when they’d been closer than brothers once upon a time. When Sirius had thought that they’d end up together. James and Lily, Sirius and Remus, Peter and that bird he was seeing - Helena? He can’t remember.

It’s not that he’s not over Remus - he barely remembers the sound of his voice, even - it’s that he still associates him with romance. In the mornings when he’s slow to wake up, when his brain hasn’t quite started functioning yet, it’s a twenty-year-old Remus he imagines next to him. At this point, he’s starting to feel a bit like a cradle snatcher, imagining someone as young as that in his bed.

For years, he hadn’t befriended anyone new, let alone gone on dates. He didn’t like the company of anyone that wasn’t James or Lily. David had caught him completely unawares, on a perfectly bland Saturday afternoon at the pub. They’d met through a friend of Lily’s. Maybe it was the fact that he was a squib (_You’d’ve loved that, wouldn’t you, mother?_), or the fact that James seemed to be fond of him. Somehow, Sirius had accepted him as a bloke worth talking to and, shortly after, worth being with.

James, the bloody bastard, hadn’t exactly been tacful when he’d found out. “‘Bout time you looked elsewhere, mate. He’s happy in Wales.” And wasn’t it just awful that he hadn’t even had to say the name, even after so many years?

Sirius hadn't been drunk enough to blame his actions (namely, a punch right on the nose) on it, but James hadn’t made a big deal of it. What did Potter know, anyway? Remus and he had never… They’d never been _together. _Remus hadn’t _left _Sirius. Well he had, but as a friend, not as a…

“Padfoot? You hear me?” James repeats impatiently. “Don’t be an arsehole, this is important.”

“What’s the matter, Prongs?” Sirius says, half-rolling his eyes. “It’s just a friend visiting.” He drums his fingers against the Potters’ kitchen table absent-mindedly. It’s a beautiful summer day, why are they inside, anyway?

James gives him a look. “You won’t give him a hard time? About the not-owling?”

“Why would I?” Sirius says, voice dripping with bitterness that he doesn’t even attempt to hide.

“See, this is what I mean, Pads.” He pauses, and lets out a short sigh. “He hasn’t stepped foot in England in years from what I know.”

“Why’s he bothering now, then?” Sirius says, sounding as bored as he can manage, considering.

“He wanted to talk to me before… He got a job. At Hogwarts.”

That manages to surprise Sirius even more than his MIA friend showing up in England. He raises his eyebrows and his mouth starts working before his brain catches up to it - quite a feat for a mind as fast as his. “Professor Moony?”

James gives him a lopsided smile and nods. “Professor Moony, indeed. Was bound to happen eventually.”

“He’s going to meet Harry,” Sirius says, quickly putting two and two together.

“Right,” James says. “That’s why he wants to - he reckons it’s better to talk to me first.”

“I thought he owled you?”

“Sometimes. But it’s different. He’ll be his Defense professor, and he said in his letter that he was worried about a couple things in the curriculum, because of Harry’s…” His voice trails off, and he gives Sirius a shrug.

Sirius frowns, trying to remember what they learned in third year that might be relevant. “That was the year… Oh, werewolves?”

“Don’t think so. He specifically said he was worried about how some creatures might affect Harry. I reckon maybe he’s thinking of thestrals, but Harry can’t see them. Anyway, I wasn’t about to turn down a chance to see an old friend, was I?”

James looks a little uneasy, but Sirius makes no comments. If nothing else, these past three years with David have taught him to be quiet every now and again. Lily’s well-placed jinxes may have helped with that, too. _Overprotective, just because I was teasing her husband a little…_

“No,” Sirius says slowly. “Suppose you wouldn’t. And why am I invited to this delightful, not at all awkward exchange?”

“Because, you twit,” Lily says, walking in with Harry. “He’s your friend.”

“I’m not sure you know what that word means, Lily-love. You’re not in charge of teaching the sprog English, are you?”

“Har har,” Lily says, then leans down to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “Just because you’ve lost touch, doesn’t mean you can’t reconnect. Especially now that he’s back in the UK.”

“Doesn’t take any more effort to floo from Cardiff than Hogsmeade,” Sirius counters back.

“Oh, done that trip many times, have you?” Lily’s quick to answer. Sirius loves that she can keep up with him and almost smiles at her response, despite his current foul mood. _Jamie’s lucky._

“Sunday,” James says, cutting in. “Ten. Please come.”

“David?”

“Yeah, of course. Why would you even ask?”

“Right.” Right, why would it matter? Remus is an old friend from school. David is the natural companion for Sirius to have with him. Not like this is a double-date. The room feels stifled, all of a sudden, and Sirius starts itching to go on a joyride. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, little snot.” He casts a silent levitating spell, raising Harry two feet.

“I’m _thirteen, _Uncle Sirius,” Harry complains, but his heart isn’t in it, and there’s laughter in his voice.

“Lily,” Sirius says, turning towards her with his best ‘who, me, Professor?’ expression. “Is he old enough for pimple jinxes, you think? Apparently he’s too old for Uncle Sirius’ name-calling.”

“So you’re the one who taught him that one. Was great, having to explain to McGonagall why ten students somehow got inflicted with a curse she hadn’t seen in a decade.”

“It was James’ specialty, if you’ll recall, my dear--”

“Off you go then, Pads!” James says, and Sirius salutes him and puts Harry down slowly before apparating away.

~

The problem with ghosts from the past, Sirius quickly finds out, is that they have a way of transporting you back with them. Just like how he still can’t not call McGonagall “Professor”. And seeing Remus… Seeing Remus makes Sirius feel like his old self again. He hadn’t even noticed how much he’d changed, until he felt his chin raise up a bit, and had the strong urge to smack Remus on the back of his neck and say “hullo Moony.”

As he walks closer to Remus, unable to stop himself, his anger, in an ironically frustrating twist, fades. Remus is thin, has grey specks on the sides of his hair and he looks… ‘haggard’ is the word that comes to Sirius’ mind. He looks bloody seventy, not thirty-five. _His smile’s the same though,_ Sirius thinks, watching Remus give a shy, lopsided smile when Lily hugs him.

They’re talking now, presumably small talk, but Sirius doesn’t hear it. Once he’s close enough, he interrupts them immediately. “If it isn’t Monsieur Moony.”

Remus freezes, and it’s all Sirius can do to not make a deer joke. “Er,” Remus says, intelligibly. Then, quick as a flash, he recovers, and gives Sirius a polite smile and nod. “Hi, Sirius.”

Lily gives Sirius a knowing look, then steps away from them, giving them space. Sirius doesn’t do anything in particular to make Remus uncomfortable like glower or glare, but he doesn’t make it easy on him, either. He simply looks at him in the eyes and waits.

“Hope you’re doing well?” Remus asks. Brave, Sirius thinks, to open with a question that would make it so easy for Sirius to spill vitriol in return.

“Couldn’t be better.”

More silence. Sirius wonders how long he can keep this up before Remus skitters away. He’s never been one to hold back his tongue, but he’s enjoying watching Remus squirm uncomfortably.

“I’ll just…” Remus points his thumb towards somewhere random to the left.

“Best stick to what you’re good at, I suppose. Go on, then,” Sirius says, making a dismissive motion with four of his fingers. Remus, to his credit, doesn’t take the bait, and walks away deliberately slowly.

The rest of the so-called brunch goes by in a haze. That might be due to Sirius making sure James’ pitcher (he won’t tell what he mixes in it, but whatever it is, it’s strong and fruity) gets a good work out. By his loose count, it’s had to magically fill itself up five times, and he’s been at it harder than anybody else. The wooden table in Potters’ garden is long, and Remus has made sure he’s sat as far from Sirius as possible while still being in polite distance of everybody else, so Sirius barely has to look at him. Every glance he catches from the corner of his eye stings, and he hates that it does. Maybe he’s drunk.

Eventually, Sirius gives in to his body and goes to the loo. He’s tried to put off pissing as long as he could - _once you start… _\- but there’s only so much liquid his body can take. He returns to the table, the mood has shifted. Even he can tell, despite the table itself being blurry, that something has happened in his brief absence. The biggest tell is that they’ve all stopped talking. He scans their faces, to see if one of them said something to trigger it. James is drinking coffee casually, Lily’s smiling in a slightly fake way, David looks like he’s holding back a grin, and Moony… Remus looks almost scared. His face is tense, and he has the same smile stuck on it that he did whenever he met someone new at the Order, not sure if they’d…

Oh.

They told David that Remus was a werewolf. That must be it.

“Don’t worry, David,” Sirius says, sitting down and most definitely not slurring his words. “Our pup doesn’t bite.”

Everybody looks over at him, confused, except for James who simply raises his eyebrows in amusement.

“What?” Sirius asks. When nobody answers, he continues. “Yes, yes, he’s a fucking adult. Fine, our wolf then.” He makes a motion with two of his fingers in Remus’ general direction.

Remus gives him the scared-deer look again, then snaps his head back and stares at his plate as if it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

“Would you like some water, Padfoot?” Lily asks, good-naturedly. James is down-right grinning now, the arsehole.

Sirius shakes his head, and instead of answering, eats some of his cold left-over bacon. David looks puzzled, but Sirius doesn’t let him catch his eyes, and eventually conversation starts flowing again, with James’ help. “Remember in sixth year, Moony,” he starts, and tells the story of the first time Remus had firewhisky. He’d been sick all over his bed and Peter’s trunk.

~

The nausea Sirius wakes up with seems violently unfair. He can barely stand up for his morning pee. He just had a few… He throws up into the sink.

Alright, maybe he’d had more than a few.

He’s barely done washing his face when he hears the door. _Nobody uses the door, _he thinks, but shuffles over to answer it anyway. He blames his still-drowsy brain for how he opens the door without so much as asking who it is, or grabbing his wand. The sight he sees in front of him sobers him up a little, though.

“Remus?”

“Er, hi,” Remus mumbles to the doormat.

“What’re you doing here?” Sirius says, his voice rough with sleep and what his throat went through a minute ago.

“I just…” Remus sighs, then brings his eyes up, looking at Sirius with surprising resolution. “Please don’t do it.”

“Do what?” Sirius says. He rubs his forehead and steps aside so Remus can come in, but Remus doesn’t take up his silent offer.

“Don’t marry him.”

It takes a few seconds for Sirius to understand what Remus is talking about. “David? We’re not… I’m not marrying David.” They hadn’t even talked about that yet. Although Sirius supposes they’ve been together for a while now, so maybe that’s why Remus had thought that.

“He’s going to ask you. Next week, when you’re going away for the weekend,” Remus says quickly.

Through its grogginess, Sirius’ brain still manages to put two and two together. “Oh. He said, yesterday? That’s why you were acting strange.”

“Just… Please don’t, Padfoot.”

For some reason, the use of the old nickname makes Sirius bristle. “What do you care, Lupin?” He moves back in front of the door, blocking Remus’ way, in case he suddenly decides he’s still invited.

“I thought… I…” Remus seems at a loss for words, just keeps looking at Sirius with sad, wanting eyes, but not putting what he wants into words.

_Typical Remus, _Sirius thinks bitterly.

Remus sputters a bit more, then averts his gaze. “You’re right, Sirius. I’m sorry. I just wanted… I just heard that he was going to ask, and I felt… It’s not my place. Please forgive me. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Sirius is trying to decide whether to punch Remus or pull him into a kiss, and the few moments he takes to decide are enough for Remus to apparate away.

“Hair of the dog, or hangover potion?” he asks himself out loud, as he closes the door behind him. _What a week…_

The whole day, Sirius keeps oscillating between being infuriated with Remus, and getting butterflies in his stomach at the thought that clearly Remus still wants him. Finally, after his second two-hour nap, he decides to do what he always does when he’s stuck between two equally tempting options: He goes to James.

James laughs when he hears about Sirius’ hangover, then laughs even harder when he hears about Remus having showed up.

“Oh you’re both so _stupid,” _he laughs. “Pads. Why are you even here? Just owl David, then go and shag Remus. What d’you need me for? I told you Lily doesn’t share, you’ll have to settle for a twosome.”

“It’s--” Sirius is about to say “it’s not that simple”, but he stops himself. It is, really, isn’t it? “Huh. Even a burnt cauldron is good for some potions. Thanks, Potter.”

“Burnt cauldron my arse, you know you came here for my sage advice, you git.” He playfully punches Sirius on the shoulder, smiling. “Go on, then. Before Lily’s back.”

“Ta.”

~

It only takes a few minutes to convince the innkeeper to give Sirius Remus’ room key. He could’ve knocked, but the look on Remus’ face when Sirius casually strolls into his room is worth the trouble he’s gone through.

“Hello, Moony,” Sirius says to a startled Remus.

“Sirius. Hello,” Remus responds, stilted.

“Thought we could finish that conversation you started,” he continues, advancing towards Remus, who makes no move to get up from the small armchair. By the time Sirius is done talking, he’s towering over Remus, and Remus is looking up at him with eyes like a schoolboy caught by a professor in the middle of a prank.

_At least he knows when he’s been bad, _Sirius thinks fondly.

“See, Moony, I rather thought that it was rude of you to leave like that.” He puts his hands on the chair’s arms, crouching to bring his face level with Remus’. He chuckles, a little darkly. He’s still bitter about the first time Remus left. “This morning, I mean.”

“Right. Sorry ‘bout that,” Remus says breathlessly. Then something seems to kick his body into gear, and he makes a move to get up, pushing Sirius away a bit. He manages to get half-way up before Sirius pushes him down with a gentle shove on the chest. Remus’ worried look is finally wiped off his face, and he looks rather pissed off instead.

“Could’ve warned a bloke, you know,” Sirius continues.

“About what?” Remus asks impatiently. He hates being forced to sit still, or locked up. _Hasn’t grown out of that fear, I see._

“Well, see, I didn’t realize that you were such a wimp. Had I known that you were so scared to kiss me that you’d quite literally leave the country, well…” He gives Remus his best feral grin. “I could’ve helped you out. Saved you a whole lot of grey hair too, from the looks of it.”

Remus squirms in his seat uncomfortably, looking around the room as if searching for something. Looking at anything except Sirius. But Sirius knows him. Knows that this is the last bit of fight that he needs to just wait out. It’s almost comical that he hadn’t noticed, back then. He’d been so caught up in Peter and Fleamont and the bloody war that he hadn’t seen Remus’ reaction as anything unrelated. But no, Remus’ departure had had nothing to do with Voldemort or the spy business.

Remus was just a coward. _My coward, though, _he finds himself thinking, and his grin softens. “Hey, Moony. Look at me,” he says gently.

“What do you want, Sirius?” Remus sighs, but does look at Sirius again.

Sirius tilts his head and pretends to mull the question over, humming. “I’ll take that kiss now, thank you.” Before Remus has a chance to react, Sirius pulls Remus up and plants a closed-mouthed kiss on his lips. It feels just like the thought it would. Remus’ weight feels just right, and his lips feel soft and pleasant. He could do this for hours.

He’s trying to do just that, pulling Remus’ body to his and kissing him with barely parted lips, when Remus pulls his head back. He’s flushed down to his neck and his hair, inexplicably disheveled, looks downright adorable. Sirius probably shouldn’t think that of a man, but, well, he can’t help what he sees, can he?

“Wait, wait,” Remus says, breath coming fast. “We can’t.”

“Yes, yes, you’re a werewolf, I deserve better, I know. Let’s get back to the snogging.” Sirius eyes the small bed. “Reckon we can squeeze onto there?” He starts moving towards it, still holding Remus’ arm, but his friend doesn’t budge.

“You big-headed pureblood. _No, _you’re not too good for me,” Remus is back to being annoyed now.

Sirius is more of a doer and not a talker, so he frowns at Remus and waits for him to get out whatever’s on his mind.

“It’s just… It…” Remus fumbles for words again. “Do you know the life expectancy of a werewolf?”

That manages to actually surprise Sirius. He blinks a few times, eyebrows furrowed in thought. “It depends,” he says slowly, because it does. The transformation is tough on their bodies but theoretically being a werewolf doesn’t directly affect life expectancy. It’s more complications from it that result in death. “What does that matter?”

“I don’t want…” Remus pauses, and takes a deep breath. “I was wrong. You should be with David.” The words sound like they’re hurting him to say it. “You should be with someone who can… Who you can get old with.”

“Are you suggesting you’re immortal, Remus? Because that’s news to me.”

Remus glares at him, and he looks so much like he did in their school years that Sirius almost smiles again. “No,” Remus says through gritted teeth. “The opposite. Stop being deliberately obtuse, Sirius. I have maybe another thirty, forty years left at best. I don’t want you to be tied down to me and waste your youth.”

“Oh wow,” Sirius says, eyes wide. “It’s worse than I thought.”

“What?” Remus asks, annoyed, knowing Sirius too well to think he’s talking about the same thing.

“You’re not just a coward, you’re also tremendously stupid. Who would’ve thought, the brilliant Sirius Black, would fall in love with someone like that?”

Remus crosses his arms and keeps looking at Sirius, silently urging him to continue.

“Remus, my old friend,” Sirius says with a tone one might use to speak to a slow child. “First off, forty years with you wouldn’t be a waste by any definition of the word. Second, potioneers are getting better every year, wolfsbane already helps part of the transformation, and you _know _the stuff Lily sends you makes the aches after much better than the old potions ever did.”

“True,” Remus concedes, lowering his arms.

“So stop whining about your furry little problem and help me move these pillows out of the way so we have more room.” He points at the bed.

Remus lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. When he smiles, Sirius feels a tightness in his chest come undone like a knot loosening. It’s been so many years, but the effect Remus has on him is the same. He feels happy, when Remus is around. Even when he’s being a coward, like now.

“Well, I suppose I should help out, shouldn’t I? The polite thing to do.”

They spend the next hour on the bed kissing like teenagers. Sirius can’t help but think that they should’ve done this as actual teenagers, saved both of them a lot of heartache, but he tries to drive those thoughts away. He has Remus now, and that’s what matters.


End file.
